


Folly Breach

by Anonymous



Series: Time Wasted [2]
Category: UTAU
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Friendship, Gen, Light Angst, bruh, go crazy ahhhhh go stupid, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22138396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: So what happens when you go back for what's bottled?
Relationships: Bukiyo Beto/Kotai Tara
Series: Time Wasted [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593502
Kudos: 2
Collections: Anonymous





	Folly Breach

Beto had mulled over "Sorry, Bukiyo" for a few seconds. It almost stung, like it was uttered just as an excuse to leave.  
He snapped back to reality. People were looking at him funny, some seemed to be giggling about Nobu's sudden outburst. Some ladies were snickering with hands over their mouths, some guys teasing the girls. The barista looked too tired for this shit. He had dark circles under his eyes.  
Beto frowned and quickly opened the door. He could still hear Nobu's rapid, slightly tapping footsteps, it seemed to echo from somewhere. He swore he saw that short silhouette somewhere...That alleyway! He bolted for it.

"Nobu!" Beto cried out, and his shoulders slumped. The tapping was much further away.  
Without warning, gone.  
Beto looked back outside of the alleyway, maybe Tara could help? Well, she might threaten Nobu for making him sad. He sighed, time will tell.  
Looking down at the ground, he saw a tipped over garbage can. Old, soggy cigarettes.

He knew it was high-time he went home. It was still noon.

\---

Its handprints are still smeared on the walls. The wrinkled documents have now been tucked away. It's disgusting.  
Its eyes look empty. Awful.

\---

Nobu sat on his bed, staring at his phone. He didn't even know what he was looking at, listening to, or barely attempting to read. The slime in his mouth dripped slowly, nothing's new. He swiped down, the messages were still there. Ten hours ago.

HuxleyP: Why didn't you show up for dinner, and is everything alright?  
HuxleyP: Please respond soon, were worried.

In spite of his newfound shame, Nobu found it in him to exhale through his nose at "were".  
Nobu closed the notification. He killed someone, he covered his head with his hands defensively. Not again. It felt like an hour. He looked at the time, two minutes after five in the morning. Almost dropping his phone on the headboard, he practically fell onto his bed in an attempt to sleep. Not again.  
Nobu pulled the covers over his head, he grimaced. "Why am I like this?" is a common thought for him.

His phone buzzed again. It was most likely spam. He merely retreated further under the blankets.

\---

"Hey, Tara. I'm going to visit Nobu again." Beto said. He almost sounded a bit flat. He threw on his hoodie, which he ripped the sleeves off of.  
Tara looked over to him from across the living room, "You don't sound too excited, babe." She had an eyebrow raised along with the dumbbell she was curling.  
Beto looked down, "Well, I--"  
"Was he mean to you again?" Her eyes widened a bit as she carefully set the equipment on the floor, "I'll make sure he doesn't act like that again." Tara put her hand on Beto's shoulder.  
He smiled a bit at her, "No, no. It's just... He's acting weird. He hasn't been out for a month!"  
"...A week, maybe?"  
"Yeah!"  
Tara laughed and headed for the door, "I got errands to run tonight. Apparently, Pepto got stuck under his bed again. It sounds quite shitty this time. I guess we'll see each other tonight." She planted a kiss on his forehead.  
It tickled so much, he let out a laugh.  
They held hands while walking to the elevator.  
... Elevator. Nobu's apartment had an elevator. Maybe he should use that this time.  
Reaching the barely dirtied lobby, they went their separate ways.  
"See you later Tara!"  
"Seeya babe!"  
... Elevator. Don't forget that. he thought to himself.

\---

Beto tilted his head at the tall complex. So many apartments in one big building. Hell, Nobu's apartment was number four hundred and twenty. It made Beto's head hurt.  
"Four hundred and twenty…" He muttered to himself. He smiled. The Funny Number still prevails. Slowly walking towards the entrance, the crusty, dank door was still that. Crusty and dank. The door closed itself behind him, with a booming thump. The lobby still looked the same. Mud tracked everywhere, belongings dropped here and there.  
…The elevator! He remembered almost with glee. Beto almost ran to the elevator, dancing a little in place inside of it. His face blanched. His excitement was immediately replaced with confusion. What floor was Nobu even on? The numbers were almost entirely rubbed out. So many buttons with no labels.  
His gut told him to go for the least rubbed out button. Beto pressed it so quickly he almost broke the button. There were cracks on that button, and it caved in slightly. He inhaled through his teeth.  
And...Up it goes? It's so slow it may as well be doing nothing. He looked at the floor. Blue splotch. Did Nobu fall or something before? Nobu didn't seem to be the type to get into fights. Faint handprints were on the floor. Why do so many people fall over?  
Clunk! The elevator violently stopped. Beto was nearly thrown out of it by its force. He caught himself before just about flying into the wall. That would not have been good.  
Stumbling up, he felt a tiny bit dizzy. Beto, in his daze, wobbled around a bit. Fumbling forward, his face met the wall with a tiny, quiet squish sound. "Crap," he mumbled while prying his face off the wall, "Apartment four hundred and twenty…" He trailed off.  
"Yup! That's where I need to go." Beto shook his head out of the trance caused by the violent elevator.  
Fumbling forward in a way that's not towards the wall, he headed for what's hopefully Nobu's flat. Walking slowly, tentatively. That elevator left him fucked up. Beto squinted, the apartment at the end of the hall rang a bell. He sped up slightly, brows furrowing. This wasn't his first time here, he puffed out his chest. He stopped by the door with a small bounce.  
Beto straightened up, and gently knocked on the door.  
A few seconds went by. That became a minute. And that, in turn, became two minutes.  
He gave the door a good few knocks. Nothing.  
Beto looked down, a little defeated. Nothing to do. Nothing.  
... Unless. Beto looked back up with a jump, maybe he left his door unlocked again. He couldn’t possibly do it again. And with a turn, it's indeed unlocked. Beto tsk-tsked.  
"Nobu, are you there? I wanna talk." Beto called out gently.  
He heard rustling from his room, "Go away, please." Nobu called back out in response. He sounded dead.  
Beto felt something rise in him. Sympathy? Irritation? Hurt? "This, again? You keep running away from me, without warning. I want to be your friend, Nobu. Please stop hiding. It hurts." His slime bubbled slightly.  
Nobu felt completely shaken. He sure sounded displeased. It reminded him of something. He's not ready to tell Beto that he made him kill someone unknowingly. Beto could never forgive him. No one could ever forgive him. They didn't before. They sure won't now.  
He took a deep, shaky breath. He'll have to lie, whether a little or a lot.  
Nobu walked out of his room awkwardly, he had a blanket draped on himself from his shoulders, "...What is it?" He didn't meet eyes.  
Beto felt a stone in his stomach. His rant felt like a metric tonne on his shoulders. Beto felt like he was right, but it didn't sit right. He even felt a bit embarrassed.  
Beto sat on the couch and motioned for Nobu to sit with him. He complied, hiding in the blanket still.  
Beto tried to look him in the eyes, "Why'd you run away?"  
Nobu gulped, looking down, "I got nervous," he shifted in his blanket, "The caffeine must have made me nervous." The voice of the reporter on the news echoed through his head.  
Beto nodded, "I'm sorry for getting irritated with you," He didn't know what else to say. "Hey," Beto said. His hand was hovering over Nobu's covered arm. Nobu nodded reluctantly. Beto gently put his hand on his arm. A simple show of support for a guy who lied to his face, through his own teeth. His hand was unsettlingly warm.  
Nobu laughed bitterly, “Why do you trouble yourself with me?”  
Beto smiled, “It’s nothing, really.”  
They started staring at the wall. Beto was itching to do something, anything, but this was alright.  
“I’m so sorry, Beto.”  
The wall wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.  
“You gotta stop apologizing.”  
The sad, generic cream colour of the walls only accentuated the smeared blue handprints.

**Author's Note:**

> Pepto belongs to Akriel  
> Beto Bukiyo and Tara Kotai belong to nb-daddy  
> Nobu Hisakawa and Huxley Pittal belong to ghiaccio hours  
> stinky formatting we die like men  
> i'm sorry for my war crimes


End file.
